


You're What I Go To School For

by annodominique



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Domestic, First Kiss, First Time, Flirt dean, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Shy Castiel, Slow Build, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top!Cas, UST, bottom!Dean, room sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annodominique/pseuds/annodominique
Summary: Dean is in love with Mr. Novak. Never mind that the English teacher is 10 years older than him, is awkward, and super nerdy. His affinity to Castiel Novak is a mystery that Dean is willing to explore. And never mind that Cas has walls up high around him, strong and seemingly impenetrable, with 'Professional Boundary' written in bold, Dean will have to fucking climb.Or the one where Castiel is volunteered to drive Dean and a bunch of classmates to another town for a three-day poetry competition. Dean unashamedly flirts with Cas, and Cas perpetually tries to fight his attraction to his student. There is falling in love involved that spans years, and Castiel's life sucks tremendously.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based loosely off a film called Miss Stevens. It's on Netflix. It's a cute coming of age film and it is where I got the inspiration to write this fic from. I loved writing awkward Cas. I'm not quite sure about the characterization in this fic, but I think it sort of works? lol. 
> 
> No smut yet. You've been warned.
> 
> The song during the drive is Sister Golden Hair by America  
> Peace out!

"You can't keep doing this, Dean." Castiel's profile looks so beautiful against the dash light. His fingers stark white against the black of the of steering wheel, and his eyes fixed on the road. The streets are empty, and the street lights reflect harshly on the wet pavements.

"Didn't know who else to text." Dean stutters drunkenly in the passenger seat.

"Surely you have friends who wanted to get home too. Couldn't you ride with them?"

"N-no.."

"How about your uncle?"

"Bobby's sleeping. Don't wanna disturb him."

"You know I was sleeping too? You didn't have a problem disturbing me. I'm your teacher."

Dean grins in the dark, and looks at Cas fondly. How many times has he done this already, he's lost track now. There is some sort of unspoken affinity that the two of them have, however Castiel chooses to deny.

"Can I crash at your place?"

"You know damn well what my answer is going to be, Dean."

Dean chuckles at the grim line of Cas's lips.

"I'll sleep in your car, then." Dean says.. "Look man, I don't have a key. Bobby sleeps like the dead. I might freeze to death if I sleep on my doorstep."

For a while, there is only silence as Cas drives, his jaw clenching which should be formidable but Dean finds cute.

"This fucking can't keep happening," Cas mutters to himself, as he makes a turn to the familiar street of Cas's house.

Dean grins in the dark.

\---

"Did any of you guys actually read the book?" Castiel stands in front of his twelve grade class, feeling like a sore thumb. He has been doing this for four years and he still feels like he does not belong in front of a group of wily teenagers teaching English Literature. He still feels like a child himself, if he's being honest.

He looks at the group of heads mostly down, eyes refusing any sort of eye contact. Of course he's not getting any response, only grunts and whispers and sniggers. Cas shakes his head a little in disbelief. How have he gotten here? Twenty-nine and single, stuck in a godforsaken town, who can't even manage to hold the attention of a bunch of seventeen-year olds. His mind wanders to the small bungalow he will be coming home to tonight, and the heated leftovers he will be eating alone for dinner. What has he done wrong in life? What has he not done?

In the far back end of the room, a single pair of eyes peers at him boldly. Dean Winchester, with his lazy smiles, almost always sarcastic. His clear stares that seemingly challenges all the damn time. For god's sake, the kid is barely making his grades count, but he makes Castiel feel inadequate somehow. Castiel shakes the feeling, it's just Dean. Dean who somehow has gotten into his head that Castiel is his designated driver for every drunken night out. Dean who texts him randomly throughout the week to send him memes from the internet. Dean who he sometimes finds at his doorstep some nights because the kid wants to "hang out". Dean who invites himself inside Castiel's house, raids his fridge, sits on his couch to watch his Netflix series, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Dean who sometimes sleeps in his guest room. That Dean who is one and the same as the nonchalant-looking punk in the back of the room.

"I read it, Cas." Dean says.

_Dean who genuinely, surprisingly loves reading._

"Of course he read it, he's been carrying that book in the back of his jeans all week like a goddamn Bible." Somebody in class comments with a snigger.

"That's right, Marquez. Do you carry the Bible all the time?"

"No."

"Do you see people carry Bibles all the damn time? In their back pockets, of all places?"

"What are you on about, Winchester?" Jeremy turns around in his seat to glare at Dean, annoyed.

"Excellent use of metaphor. On fucking point." Dean says, with a sarcastic wink at Jeremy Marquez.

"Guys, guys!"

"You have something to say Winchester, say it straight!"

"If you're going to diss me, be fucking good at it at least."

"Dean! Jeremy!" Cas shouts at them. They avert their eyes from each other derisively.

"No swearing in my class, how many times do I have to say this?" Castiel huffs. A pause, and then he looks at Dean.

"And _please_ Dean, that's Mr. Novak for you."

Dean looks at him squarely, the remnant of his bitter snide at his classmate slowly turning into a little smile blooming on the edge of his lips.

"Mister Novak." He says slowly.

\---

"Dean, I'm telling you that you have to take additional work load for this class to make up for all the quizzes you missed, if you want to graduate next year." Castiel says, exasperatedly.

It's like Dean can't understand a thing Castiel is saying. It's different now. He used to be able to finesse his way through conversations and confrontations with Cas. It used to be that Cas is the one who'd get easily flustered at a slight provocation from Dean. He'd still get flustered, but so will Dean. Over time, he'd gotten used to hiding it though.

Dean knows exactly when it started. Sophomore year, when he'd gotten back to school after a missed year because he had to work the year off to support and feed Sammy. He comes to school, sits in the front row of English class at the first class hour, ruminating on just skipping high school altogether, going back to working for Bobby full-time at the auto shop. When all of sudden Castiel fucking Novak strides into class, wearing a light blue-collared denim shirt, and blue jeans. _Denim on denim should not go well together_ , was Dean's first thought.

"Welcome to English Literature 102. My name is Mr. Castiel Novak." Deep voice, and a very low baritone.

He never quite understood how, but it's like from the very start, that very moment that Castiel walked in that classroom, Dean's world opened up. It started with a question in Dean's mind. _Well hello, who the fuck are you?,_ and _Excuse me?,_ and _Wow, how dare you?_

"Heya, Cas." Dean remembers just going at it. Castiel looked at him then, appearing suddenly hesitant and unsure, his hands finding the edge of his shirt to tug on. Long fingers, and clean-cut fingernails. And Dean's heart started beating frantically at his chest for that reason alone.

"You may address me as Mr. Novak." Castiel said sternly then, trying to get his composure back. But it's as if Dean understood everything that Cas stood for at that moment, and wants to know more. There is softness in Cas, and although it isn't normally attractive to Dean, Dean thought it looked good on Cas. It _felt_ good on Cas. It's funny how a few seconds of meeting the guy enabled him to glean this much feeling and vibe from it. Dean finds himself smiling for the first time that day.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"Dean Winchester." Dean winks at him. "You may address me any way you want to."

From that day, this interest with Cas just festered, sweetly and bitterly at the same time. He borderline stalked the guy for most of Sophomore year. Until one fateful day when Cas gave his personal phone number to Dean's junior class, for project consultations. Dean remembers his first text to Cas was not in any way, shape or form related to English Lit.

**Hey Cas, it's Dean Winchester. I'm sorry to text so late. But I just really need a ride home right now.**

Dean remembers sitting on the side of the road in front of a club that night, looking desperately at the dots on his phone as Cas texts on the other end. He didn't realize he was holding his breath, until he released it when Castiel's reply came through.

**Where are you?**

\---

To everybody else, Dean Winchester is callous, and distant, almost always stays in the background, have no regard whatsoever in his academic standing. He is that rebellious kid in class that always sits in the very back, listless and apathetic. But there is so much potential in Dean, smart and practical, and mature that the rest of Castiel's class seems out of his league. Everyone in the faculty knows that Dean is an emancipated minor since he was 16, that he missed a year in high school because he had domestic issues, particularly with his father and brother.

Dean had always unnerved Cas from that first day in sophomore high school. He is way older than Dean, way more knowledgeable academically, but what does that matter? Dean had always exuded this dark confidence, attractive and powerful, like he knows the way to go, and sure of who he is in the world. And Castiel envies that about him, because he is just the exact opposite.

Cas will probably never know, as he is unwilling to explore, the mystery of Dean Winchester's interest in him. It's like from the get go, Dean had singled him out to be a constant source of interest and entertainment, however ridiculous that seems to sound. Whatever it is, with Dean, it always felt like Castiel needs to set more boundaries.

"Dean?" Castiel calls out. Dean is looking at him, like he's in a trance, as if he's cataloguing his face.

"Sorry, what?" Dean pouts his lips contemplatively at him. He probably knows how dumb that looks on him. And how attractive. Castiel sighs.

"You need extra credits in my class to graduate."

Dean does not get to answer, because right then, Anna Nolan walks to his desk, looking like she means business.

"Mr. N. Did you get my e-mail?" Anna clutches her notebooks close to her chest.

"Yes I did, Anna."

Anna has an air of prudishness about her. She looks at Dean, and the contrast between the two students is actually quite remarkable.

"Oh good, you're here too, Dean." She somehow makes it look like she's looking down at Dean even though the guy looms over her diminutive height.

"So what do you think?" She looks unsurely at Castiel.

Castiel suppresses a sigh. He loves the Canadian Rockies. He loves driving out to Banff for a short break, but being with students while there and another faculty staff is another story altogether.

"I'm honored that you'd choose me to go with you on this trip. I'll be happy to go with your group. I will just have to talk with Principal Shurley and Lisa, uh, Ms. Braeden about the details of this event. And then I'll get back to you just to confirm, is that okay, Anna?"

"Sounds good, Mr. N." Anna's features transform when she smiles. Castiel smiles back at her.

Anna turns to Dean, Also, you better sign that waiver and hand it out to Ms. Braeden if you're really going, Dean."

It takes a while before it sinks in to Cas. He looks at Dean as Anna walks away, and out through the door. "Wait..Are you— Do you—umm...I'm confused. You're going?"

Dean has a triumphant smile plastered on his face.

"I wasn't so sure before. I am now."

\---

Castiel sits outside Principal Shurley's office, wondering why this sort of thing happens to him. He just can't say no, can he? He's too nice for his own good, _or foolish_. The student seated next to him in the little waiting lounge gives him a nonchalant shrug as if he doesn't want anything to do with Castiel's internal brain dialogue. The kid puts on his headphones and looks at the wall behind Castiel like it somehow is more interesting than he is.

"Castiel, thank you for agreeing to do this." Principal Shurley says, after taking a quick swig of whatever is in his coffee cup, just before Castiel can get seated in the roomy office.

Principal Shurley is a very pro-active principal, Castiel thinks. He is that type of leader that gets involved in his team's personal life, and tries to help out even if help is unsolicited. Which is good in some ways, and a tad offensive if you're the type of person to get offended by such things.

"Have a seat, have a seat. Coffee?"

"No, thanks sir. I've had tea."

"Yes, you look like you'd be a tea-drinker." Principal Shurley's smiles at him knowingly.

"About the Poetry Slam, Sir..."

"Ah, yes. Poetry, poetry. Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes."

This small, unnecessary small talk is actually making Castiel's head hurt. "Who said that again? Hmm, I can't remember..."

"Joseph Roux."

"That's right, you're good at this."

_It's my job._

"Anyway, yes. The students and Ms. Braeden chose you to come with them to Banff for this competition." Principal Shurley folds his hands together on the desk. "I must tell you what a wonderful idea it is to participate in this creative event. This will be beneficial to the student body for affiliation with the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity, for further studies in between school years."

"I agree."

"Are you into poetry, Mr. Novak?"

"I cannot say I'm not."

"Well this is perfect. You will be staying in Banff Town for three days, two nights, all expenses paid—accommodation, food, and transportation."

"We have the funds for this?"

"Let's just say that the English department has very generous connections."

"That's wonderful."

"I know! I would like to go myself. But I have a boring job, so.." Principal Shurley opens a drawer, and takes out a manila folder.

"Here are all the details you need to know, Castiel. Everyone who's going have been given the same copy. So hotels, gas coupons, meal coupons. Everything's in there. There is one thing though, we need either you or Ms. Braeden provide the vehicle for transportation, and to drive the group too, going there and back."

Castiel knows that Lisa Braeden drives a Honda civic coupe. And Castiel drives a 2001 Mazda family van that he inherited from his foster parents.

"How many participants, exactly, Sir?"

Principal Shurley hands him another paper.. Castiel takes it, and printed out on it is the list of names of the participants.

"There will be six of you in the group altogether."

Castiel's eyes zeroes in on Dean Winchester's name at the bottom of the list. _Great._

"I suppose my van is the ideal choice then."

"That appears to be the case."

_Really great._

\---

"Sammy, what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to go check on Bobby when you get off school?"

"I had to get my books, Dean!" Sam shouts at him, in that annoyed tone Dean's so used to by now. Sam is in 8th grade, and so much wiser beyond his years. "What are you doing here? Aren't _you_ supposed to head there straight after class?"

"I remembered to bring canned soup, okay?"

"Then what's the problem?"

"If Bobby's a cold corpse when we get there, I'm gonna blame you."

"Bobby has a freaking fever, Dean!"

"And if he dies from it, I might kill you too."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They get to Bobby's place in Dean's Impala. Bobby is not a cold corpse when they get there. However, he is in bed and hasn't eaten anything since that morning. He tells Dean to open up shop.

"It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon Bobby, I'm not going to open the garage."

"And you still have to cook him soup," Sam butts in.

"Damn right!" Dean exclaims a little too foercefully.

"Yer both idjits." Bobby turns away from them in bed.

"Damn Bobby, you thicc."

Sam laughs in the background.

"Like I said, idjits." Bobby mumbles into his pillow.

Dean's afternoons are almost always spent in Bobby's auto shop. The old man is cranky and bossy most of the damn time, but Dean considers him the only father figure in his and Sammy's life. After John left them, Bobby took them under his wing and gave Dean a part-time job in his shop. Bobby won't let him keep the job though, if he doesn't attend school. So Dean is kind of stuck with school too. Which is honestly not at all that bad, if he's being honest.

\---

"Castiel, dear how are you?" The voice mail starts, and Naomi's voice rumbles from the machine as Cas fills a kettle with water from the tap. "Zachariah and I just came back from our trip in Barbados, it was heavenly. I have never seen such pristine waters."

Castiel smiles a little, thinking that it's good his foster parents are enjoying their retirement.

"Anyway," Naomi continues, "I have some good news. Hannah and Michael are expecting! It was wonderful news to come home too. Am I ever excited. I am going to be a grandma, can you believe?"

Castiel turns off the tap, listens intently, looks outside of the window to nothing in particular.

"We'd just like to invite you at Hannah's place for thanksgiving lunch, is all why I'm leaving this voice mail for you dear. We miss you all the time, and we would love to have you over with the rest of the family. Please call me when you get the chance, I have to go now but I will talk to you soon, okay?” Then, the sounding beep that means the end of the message.

Castiel's foster family, especially Naomi keeps in touch once or twice a month. He sometimes spends holidays with them, and attends birthdays, family gatherings. But Castiel can't help but feel like an outsider still. They are wonderful people, a great family that helped Castiel through during his teenage years, but there is a gap that separated him from being a real part of the family. He doesn't know if it is him or them, but Castiel has long stopped figuring it out. He's a lone wolf, and it's lonely. It's so fucking lonely.

Castiel's weekends are made up of trips to surrounding libraries, microwaveable meals, nights spent alone on the couch, with a movie or the local news playing on the TV set. Mornings he runs around the neighborhood. He writes some evenings, reads on some. Once a month, he goes out on a date. He rarely goes on a second date with someone. He just doesn't do well with people, he guesses. He's been so used to his routine and his independence, and isolation, that he cannot imagine breaking away from it. It's lonely, but it's safe.

\---

October comes soon enough. That morning when they leave for the mountain town, Dean packs his backpack with the minimal clothes he can wear for three days. He puts on a hoodie, and another red and white wool jacket on top of it. It is fall, and there might be some snow up in the mountains. He checks the fridge to make sure nothing will go bad, he takes a box of pizza from it with 3 slices left from the other night. It is still dark outside, and he drives a very sleepy Sam clutching the pizza box and a weekend bag on his lap, to Bobby's place.

"Bring me a souvenir or something."

"Yeah, sure. Look out for Bobby, 'kay?"

"'Kay."

"It's just three days. I'll call every night to make sure you're not geeking out too much during the long weekend"

"Haha," Sam says, with an exaggerated eye roll.

Bobby is making breakfast when they get there. The old man won't take no for an answer when he offered the two boys bacon and eggs and toast. Dean gulfs down the food, and takes the brown bag of lunch Bobby unceremoniously thrusts in his hands. Dean leaves Baby's keys to Bobby, says goodbye to both him and Sam. And then he starts to make the short walk to the school, where the group is supposed to meet before heading out.

In the front of that school that morning, it's like the breakfast club came to meet for weekend detention. Cas's grey Mazda van is parked by the entrance to the school building. Dean can't help the smile on his face suddenly. In the parking lot, three other cars are parked. It is cold and the late October wind blows out the last of the fall leaves. Dean's eyes zero in on the tall figure in the tan trench coat talking to Gabriel's mom. Gabriel himself is beside his mother, talking animatedly in the usual way of his, giving Dean a wave when he sees him. But Castiel. Mr. Novak, has his hair undone, wind-blown, and incredibly sexy today, like he just rolled out of bed, all rumpled and warm and decided to make _or ruin_ Dean's day. _Shit_. This stuff used to affect Dean way less than it does now. Castiel makes a beeline for Ms. Braeden. She is talking to a group that includes Charlie Bradbury, Anna Nolan and judging from the same shade of red hair, Anna's mom.

"Good morning, Dean." Ms. Braeden greets him.

"Hey, Dean," Charlie chirps at him. "Gloomy morning..."

"I don't know, you ladies are a sight for sore eyes." And they are, they really are. An interesting bunch with their bright red hair and dark-colored autumn clothing.

"Why thank you, young man, that's very gracious of you to say." Anna's mom says, Dean smiles at her.

"So Dean, everything ready?" Ms. Braeden says, looking him up and down. "Is this all you're bringing?" she gestures at Dean's backpack slung on one shoulder.

"I'm...low-maintenance,” Dean shrugs. "I didn't forget my toothbrush." He adds as if that's supposed to make Ms. Braeden feel better.

Charlie snorts in the background.

"Ms. Braeden, do you mind if I ride in the front?" Dean asks, staight-forward.

"Not at all,” comes Ms. Braeden's immediate answer.

\---

All the preliminaries are out of the way, and the parents are dealt with. Castiel opens the hatchback of his SUV, the students put their luggage and bags in.

"Hey, Mr. N., sweet ride." Gabriel says flamboyantly.

"Thanks, Gabriel." Castiel replies even though he highly doubts that Gabriel meant what he said.

Castiel waits until everyone has loaded their stuff in. Lisa Braeden comes to put her bag in last.

"So, what do you think? Okay day for this trip?"

"It's not so bad, just a little windy. But we should be okay."

"Let's just try to get this over with, hey? And have a little bit of fun." Lisa lightly lays her hand on his arm and gives it a little squeeze, and then turns to get in the vehicle. Castiel releases a little sigh as he shuts the hatch door. He moves to get in the driver's seat, everyone is clamoring to get settled in their seats.

"Charlie, come sit with me back here," he hears Gabriel say.

"Bruh, where the ef else."

"Charlie, language," Lisa says.

"I didn't even say the word, Ms. B."

"It was still implied," Lisa answers, "Anna? You okay sitting in the queen seats with me here?"

"The boss seats for us today, Ms. B." Anna answers in the affirmative.

Castiel looks in the back as soon as he's buckled up. And sure enough, Gabriel and Charlie are chilling in the very back bench seats, and Anna and Lisa are in the second row of single seats. Lisa gives him a little comforting smile.

"Dean just went to use the washroom."

"I'm here!" Dean Winchester opens the passenger side door, gets in.

"What are you—"

"Heya, Cas." Dean greets him in a whisper as he makes himself comfortable in the passenger seat, buckles his seat belt.

"Shouldn't you—" Castiel looks from him and then to Lisa in the back, and then to Dean again. "..Okay then, I guess," He says resignedly.

"I promise not to fall asleep." Dean winks at him, and Cas feels his heart skip a beat. _Good Lord, how is that face even legal? Get a grip. You're an adult, you're a professional. Act like one._

"Everyone ready?" Cas starts the engine, preoccupies himself with looking at the dashboard, checking that everything is in order, pretending that Dean didn't throw him off at all.

"As we'll ever be!" Lisa says in the back.

"Woohoo!!" Charlie hollers, the same time as Gabriel shouts, "Banff here we come."

Castiel starts driving North, the traffic is not so bad as it is still very early in the morning. Soon, they are on Highway 1, the infamous road that leads to Banff, and the way to the Rockies and British Columbia.

"Ah, I'm so nervous." Gabriel shrieks. In the rear view mirror, Cas sees him shaking poor Charlie. His voice leaves little doubt that he's openly gay. Everyone had always known or assumed that he is, because it is one aspect that he's been very open about.

"Stop it, Gabby!" Her voice shakes as she is jolted from the force of Gabriel's pushing and pulling.

"You can't be this excited about poetry slam, I refuse to believe it," Anna says.

"He's meeting his boyfriend there." Charlie reports, rolling her eyes.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"He's been chatting with you online since eleventh grade. I'd be excited too." Charlie says.

"Stooop." Gabriel coons.

"You're such a drama queen!" Charlie laughs at her friend.

"Just remember to be responsible when you meet with this guy, Gabriel," Lisa says, "I trust that you know better."

"Stooop, Ms. B!"

Everyone bursts out in laughter. Beside him, Castiel hears a little snort from Dean. He chances a glance at his companion in the front seat, and sees him pensively looking out the window. Engaged, but distant. The light outside is dim, pink in the horizon, and the stretch of road they are in is lined in rows and rows of trees appearing black against the neon morning light. And Dean Winchester is just beautiful. Castiel thinks that is a legitimate objective observation. Anyone who has eyes would think so.

Soon, the chatter dies down and settles into a comfortable silence. The car radio plays Castiel's songs from his smart phone. He's only connected it once, and it has played his old songs ever since. He really doesn't know how the damn thing works.

A song comes on, and Castiel mouth-sings silently to it, for the lack of anything to do. Outside, the light is bright now. The scenery is now rolling hills and acres and acres of farm lands. Nothing remarkable, really.

“Mr. N, do you only have old songs?” He hears Charlie from the back say.

Castiel glances at his radio, pretty beat-up looking thing. “Um...”

“I love this song.” Dean says beside him. Cas gives him a little smile.

“I don't know, Charlie, I'm kinda feeling it. It has that Californian-hippie vibe.” Gabriel does a little dance, and keeps on at it as the song goes on.

“This band is called America, right Castiel? 70's if I'm not mistaken?” Lisa says.

“I think so..”

“Oh my god, you're that old, Mr. N?” Anna shrieks. “I didn't think so.”

“He's not old, Anna. He just likes old people music.” Charlie answers. Cas grips the steering wheel a little too tightly. He sees Dean at his peripheral vision glance at his way.

“How old are you even, Mr. N?” It's Gabriel this time.

“I'm old.”

“Not that old.” Dean's voice comes out of nowhere, silent and gruff.

“Very old.”

“Guys, enough,” Ms. Braeden says, but there is amusement in her voice.

“Like, what 25?” Anna asks.

“I'm 29.”

Dean punches a button on the stereo and cranks up the volume, so that the whole car is engulfed by the music from the speakers.

“Best part!” Dean shouts over the music. He looks at Castiel and sings on top of his lungs:

“ _Will you meet me in the middle?_

_Will you meet me in the air?_

_Will you love me just a little?_

_Just enough to show you care?”_

Castiel cannot help the big ass smile on his face, that morphed into a laugh when Dean starts making hand gestures with the lyrics, all the while looking at Castiel, singing the upbeat song with his gruff voice, and putting all the emotion he can in the song. Soon, Ms. Braeden starts singing too. In the very back, Gabriel and Charlie starts dancing. Anna looks at all of them like they've all gone mad.

“ _Well I tried to fake it,_

_I don't mind sayin,_

_I just can't make it...”_

\- - -

Soon, the views change into the cool mountain scenery of the Rockies. There are patches rows of trees that are yellow and gold and brown, but most of the vegetation in these parts stay green throughout the year.

"I would just like to say, in behalf of Poetry Club, we thank you Mr. Novak for agreeing to do this for us." Anna says, and Cas thinks that it is such an Anna thing to say.

"You're welcome, the pleasure is mine."

"No really, Castiel, I'm sure you can think of better ways to spend the long weekend than be with us, but here you are. So thanks a lot."

Before Castiel can formulate a response to Lisa, an extremely loud explosion resounds around the vehicle, and everyone is jolted in surprise and fear.

“Oh my god, what was that?!”

“Are we being shot at?”

“Shit!” Castiel exclaims, as he pulls over to the side of the road.

Beside him, Dean looks at him, amused at his use of the swear word.

“Fuck,” Castiel says under his breath again, as he turns off the engine.

“Castiel, what was that?” Lisa asks apprehensively from the back. Everyone is uneasy now, and for good reason. He doesn't understand why Dean Winchester is peering at him like this whole thing is entertaining to him.

“We have a flat tire,” Dean announces casually, still looking at Cas as he buries his head on the steering wheel.

“Oh my god,” Anna complains, “we're going to be late for the opening ceremony.”

“Anna, please, we have other things to be worried about right now,” Lisa says worriedly looking at Castiel.

“I thought we're gonna die, girl...” Gabriel tells Charlie, who looks grief-stricken.

“I have to call the school to let them know we're delayed.”

“Fuck,” Castiel whispers again, but it's loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Boy, you swear a lot Mr. N.” Gabriel says, surprised.

“I know, I'm sorry..” Castiel finally straightens up, and composes himself. “I'm going to have to change the tire. Will everyone calmly get out of the vehicle. Lisa, will you find a safe spot for you guys to sit while I put the spare in.”

“For sure, of course.”

All of the passengers are stirred into action. Cas gets off the driver's seat and checks the left front tire. It is all the way deflated. It's a good thing that the rim isn't damaged, he thinks.

“It was the big pot hole.” Dean is suddenly there beside him.

“I know. I didn't see it.” Cas crouches down so that the tire is eye level.

“How many tires have you changed in your lifetime, Cas?”

He looks up at Dean, frustrated about the turn of events. In the background, not too far away, their group is sitting by the road side looking distressed; Anna is on her mobile phone calling the Banff Centre for Arts to report their situation, no doubt.

The answer is zero. Zero tires, but he is not about to let Dean Winchester know that. Because what good would that bring them? He instead starts to open the hatch back, moves the bags and luggage away to access the panel on the floor of the vehicle where he _hopes_ the spare tire is. And it is, it is there, _thank god_. He starts unscrewing the spare.

“I'll change the tire, Cas.”

“What?”

“I've changed tires more than I can count, okay Cas?”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

Dean heaves a heavy sigh.

“Okay.. Mr. Novak,” Dean emphasizes his name and title, and that irks Cas a little bit more. “I said I'll change the tire.”

“I can't let you do that.”

“Why?”

“Because you're a student.”

“I happen to be a mechanic too.”

Castiel looks at him tentatively, then moves to carry the spare tire from the compartment. He lays it on the ground beside the flat tire, moves again to the back of the vehicle to get the jack and the tire wrench, effectively going around Dean, ignoring him. Castiel then puts the jack on the ground, and starts jacking the vehicle up.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, calmly.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Do you know what you're doing?” Dean looks at him darkly, and something about the whole exchange sends shivers up Cas's spine. “You're supposed to loosen the screws first before you jack it up. Here, let me do it.”

“Dean—“

“Cas, please. Just—I know this stuff, this is easy stuff. If you'll just fucking let me change the goddamn tire, we'll be back on the road in no time.” Dean is so close to his face, he sees the gold flecks in the green of his eyes.

“L-language.”

Dean sniggers at him, snatches the wrench from his hand.

“We can't put the spare in the front, this is a front wheel drive and it'll feel misaligned and unsafe to drive with the spare in the front,” Dean says as he starts loosening the screws with the wrench. It is obvious in the way that Dean speaks that he knows a great deal about cars, and Castiel doesn't know how to feel about that.

'So what we'll do, is put that good rear tire in the front. And the spare tire in the back, okay, Cas?”

“Please. Stop calling me Cas.”

Dean stops with the screws, drops the wrench, looks up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Too late... Cas.”

He moves to jack up the vehicle once again, and to dislodge the flat tire from the axle.

Soon, they are back on the road. Dean Winchester sits next to him in the passenger seat, looking smug, grease on his fingers and a smudge on his face, and ten times more attractive. Castiel tries to dispel his inappropriate thoughts, and concentrate on getting there before Anna Nolan gets an aneurysm from being late for the opening ceremony.

– –

They are late for the opening ceremony. The school lobby is empty, and there is a table for registration which is also empty except for a couple pieces of paper where the registrants sign, a pen, and some pamphlets for Banff town. Above the table is a banner that says “Welcome Poetry Slam Participants!”

“I should look for the coordinator,” Ms. Braeden starts milling about, scoping for anyone who looks like they know about the event.

They end up sitting at the very end of the big hall, and the moderator is just giving the closing remarks. All Dean could think is, how fucking good Cas smells beside him. He has been itching to ask what fragrance was it he's wearing, even in the car.

After the ceremony, they talk with some of the participants and teachers.

“Okay, we'll check in our hotel quickly, head out for dinner, and get some rest. How's that sound?”

“Sounds about perfect, Ms. B.”

It is Cas that goes to the hotel receptionist to check the whole group in. Dean thinks it is a decent hotel, not too fancy, it has that mountain cabin feel to it. When Cas comes back, everyone looks at him expectantly.

“Our rooms are on the second floor.”

They get there, heaving their heavy bags and luggage as there was no elevator.

“So...We have three rooms, two single beds each.” Cas announces, looking at the key cards. “Rooms 216, 218, 220.” The rooms are adjacent to each other.

“Ms. B, can Charlie bunk with me?” Gabriel immediately requests.

Ms. Braeden looks at Cas, and Cas looks back, obviously weighing the situation. And Dean has a good feeling about this, he stifles a grin.

“She promises not to impregnate me,” Gabriel continues. Charlie swats at his arm.

Anna giggles.

“I guess you two can stay together,” Ms. Braeden says, resigned. Dean can't help a little smile.

“Anna, you and me? And...” Ms. Braeden and everyone else looks at the last pair, Dean suddenly feels red in the face.

“Castiel, you okay with Dean?”

He hears a little heavy sigh from Castiel, before he says, “Perfectly.”

The room is fairly nice, Dean thinks. But that's his standard. He's been in one too many crappy hotel rooms to know that they got a goodie. Dean dumps his backpack in the middle of the nearest bed, sits against the headboard and lifts one leg up. He looks at his companion, and he's struck again by the older man's profile especially in the yellow lamp light. There is a little crease in between Cas's brows as he examines the room. Dean watches as Cas moves to the double doors that lead to a little balcony overlooking the vast mountains outside. Cas fiddles with the lock, then moves to the unclaimed bed, opens the bedside table and studies the contents. He thumbs through the little pamphlet directory provided beside the phone. Dean crosses his arms against his chest.

“You don't seem happy being room mates with me.”

Castiel finally looks at him, squints his eyes.

“How do I seem like?”

“Not happy.”

Castiel laughs, all gummy and genuine. And it's the last reaction Dean expected from him.

“What?”

“I'm not sad being room mates with you, Dean. You've slept in my couch more times than I can count by now.” Cas returns the pamphlet, looks to Dean sprawled on the bed. “I think I'm immune to your constant presence.

“Oh, you're immune?” Dean says as if there is a challenge there.

“And for the record, I thank you for helping me with spare tire. I couldn't have done it myself.”

For some reason, Dean doesn't like this composed, teacher-sounding Cas. He feels like somehow Cas is attacking him, however dumb that sounds.

“Anytime, Mr. Novak. Anytime.” Dean says, looking away.

– –

They agree on seafood dinner. The restaurant is quite a walk from their hotel, but the walk in the famous strip of the little town where all the shops and restaurants are is actually very inviting. The overhead fairy lights are cozy. Here and there are musicians along the street, and the smell of chocolate from a chocolatier shop is comforting to the senses. It is seven o'clock at night, and even the big brand shops are still open. The sidewalks are filled with people walking to stores and about, window-shopping, food-tripping. In front of them, in the horizon looms the big rocky mountain, cool and blue. It looks straight out of a fucking post card. Dean takes a picture to send to Sam. In their little group, the girls are walking ahead of them, looking at the shop displays. And it's sort of like just happened that Dean and Cas walk behind all of them as they feel too tall to be walking in front, at least that's how Dean feels. The chill in the evening air makes Dean shiver, and Cas looks at him.

"You didn't bring warmer clothes."

"Wasn't expecting it to be this cold."

"In the mountains?"

"If your point is that you're smart, Cas, okay you are. Happy?"

Cas doesn't answer, doesn't even look at him, but there's a telltale smile when he turns his head to look away.

Later on, after ordering and as they're waiting for their food, Cas excuses himself.

He comes back not ten minutes later with a small shop bag.

"Buying souvenirs already, Castiel?" Ms. Braeden asks, their food arrives.

"I just saw something that caught my eye on the way here."

They eat their food, and it's a good thing that everything's free because Dean can never afford food this fancy in probably ever.

On their way back to the hotel, Cas has his hands in his pockets, and Dean looks at that space his arm creates where Dean wants to loop his arm in.

"Here put this on," Cas says, and he hands the shop bag to Dean.

"What's this?"

Dean looks inside, finds a new set of beanie, scarf and gloves. All are matching forest green with a black knitted pattern. And Dean can't help the blush on his neck and cheeks, he is astounded beyond words, so he just says, "Thank you," to no one in particular because Cas lets him fall behind walking. He keeps the slow pace as he puts them on, looks at his reflection on one of the shop windows. The color looks good on him, they are the nice ones too. Probably expensive. He looks for the receipt in the bag, found none.

"Fuck, Cas." He says to himself, out of breath.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this got dark fast. I am making it three chapters now, because I decided on a bigger plot.  
> Angst and fluff. Sorry for my attempt at poetry, I'm no Shakespeare. It was a plot device, that's my excuse. No smut yet.
> 
> Peace out!

They get back to the hotel, say their good nights. The itinerary for tomorrow is rehearsals and a literary seminar in the afternoon. But Cas tells Lisa that he should get the spare tire changed early in the morning so that he doesn't miss the rehearsals.

Cas goes to shower right away as soon they get inside the room. He takes his time, brushes his teeth, tries to pretend he doesn't mind at all sleeping with Dean Winchester only five feet away. When he walks out of the bathroom, Dean is seated lazily on the bed against the headboard, and talking on his mobile phone.

"It's beautiful, Sam. I'll take you here one day, I promise...Okay, say hi to Bobby for me...Make sure he's eating....Yes, I did...I have to go soon, we're going to bed...Haha, very funny...'Kay, bye bitch." Dean laughs, then hangs up.

Castiel tries to avoid looking at Dean. He draws the bed covers, sits on the edge of the bed. When he finally turns to Dean, he takes in on the sight of him, without the layers of clothing from the day, and wearing a fitted black thin tee and his jeans. Dean's eyes are already on him.

"Are you going to use the bathroom?" Cas croaks.

"Nope."

"Are you sleeping like that?"

Dean gets up, makes a show of removing his jeans, getting out of it, dumping it on top of his backpack on the floor. Until he's only in his shirt and boxers that are too black and too fit for Castiel's state of mind.

"Like this."

Castiel clears his throat. "Is it okay if I turn off the light?"

"During?"

"Sleep, Dean. While we sleep."

Dean gives him a menacing grin as he jumps back in bed, and under the thin blanket.

"Lights off, then, Cas."

Castiel releases a sigh as he turns off the bedside lamp. He gets in bed, settles underneath the blanket and the comforter. He adjusts his head on the pillow. Some minutes pass, and Cas begins to realize he is not going to be able to sleep anytime soon. He turns his back to Dean's direction, hikes up the blanket up to his shoulder, and buries the side of his face on the fluffy pillow.

"Do you have siblings?" Dean says, quietly. Castiel blinks in the dark. Should he pretend he's sleeping?

"It's just I never see pictures in your house."

Castiel thinks about not answering the question, but then he thinks any other student who asks him, he wouldn't have a problem answering.

"No." Castiel finally replies. "I have a stepbrother."

"Are you close?"

"Not really."

"Are you..happy?"

Castiel looks at nothing, his eyes wide-open, his body comfortable in the warmth of the sheets. Dean just asked him if he was happy. If he could laugh bitterly out loud, he would. But he's tired for even that.

"Dean. What is this?" Is his answer instead.

"I'm just asking."

"It's not proper." Seems to be the eternal response to anything that Dean Winchester throws at him.

"It's just us here."

"What's your deal with me, Dean?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you act this way with all your teachers?"

"You're special." Cas hears the smile in Dean's voice.

He should not answer that, he should not. He should abort this conversation, go the fuck to sleep like a proper-functioning adult. Instead Castiel says,

"How so?"

Castiel hears Dean shift, the bed springs whine as the other man turns over.

"I like you."

 _Like_ , he says. _It is general,_ Castiel reminds himself. Like someone would like apple pie, or like someone would have an interest in say, Marvel movies. That is the extent of 'like' that Dean meant, Castiel makes a mental note.

"Good night, Dean."

"I like it when you laugh." Comes Dean gruff, quiet voice, low and soft like he's saying it to himself. Some moments after, and:

"I like how you dress. Like everything may be going wrong in your life. But damn if you're not gunna show up in class looking like you're straight out of GQ." Dean says, a huff of laughter under his breath.

"I like your confused squint when at class." Dean's voice sombers, and steadies. "I like that you're so humble when you teach. I like...I like that you put up with my shit when I text you."

Castiel feels a sudden grip on his chest at Dean's words.

"I like that you don't want me sleeping on your couch, but you still leave me breakfast in the morning.”

Castiel closes his eyes, his breath hitched. He wonders how long he can hold it until he's forced to let it out.

"'Night, Cas."

\---

It's eight o'clock in the morning. Castiel sits inside his car, waiting for it to warm up. He suppresses a yawn, wishes he has coffee. His mind is on some other things, when the passenger door opens suddenly. Dean Winchester gives him a look, and then slides into the seat.

"'Morning." Dean says, as he fastens the seat belt.

"What are you doing?" Castiel admonishes, astounded.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not. You have a morning seminar, Dean."

"Not until 10:30."

"They don't know where you are."

"I talked with Ms. Braeden."

"Dean."

"Cas."

Dean sighs heavily, leans his head against the headrest as if he's done having the argument.

"I have to call her." Cas says, resigned.

He gets the voice mail. He leaves a message for Lisa, telling her that Dean is with him and that he insisted on coming, that they will be back for the talk.

"There." Dean comments, as if there was really nothing to it. No big deal. _Right_.

Cas gives him a look. Dean grins at him. Cas rolls his eyes, and releases the hand brake.

They drive around town, looking for the auto shop. Dean fiddles with the radio.

"Give me your phone." Dean says after a while.

"What? Why?"

"I'll fix your play list."

"Dean, no."

"Just give it. I'm not gonna look at your girlfriend's messages."

"I don't--" Cas resigns, hands him the phone.

Dean starts to browse through his songs.

"You don't have a girlfriend?"

"You're pushing it."

"Charlie's convinced you're gay. Are you?"

"That's inappropriate."

"So you're straight?"

"That's also inappropriate."

"I'm bi." Dean announces casually, as he thumbs through Castiel's phone. Castiel's grip tightens on the steering wheel, his jaw clenches.

"Okay." Castiel answers, eventually.

\---

The mechanic in the garage tells them that there is a wait for Cas's car to be attended.

"This early?" Dean steps in the conversation.

"Yep. These cars have been here since two nights ago, to be picked up today. Sorry kids."

"How long?" There is a furrow between Cas's brows, and Dean can't help but smile. This grown man looks so fucking adorable when grumpy.

"'Bout an hour, hour and a half."

Castiel looks away on the road, thinking.

"Let's have breakfast while waiting. I don't know 'bout you but I'm starved, Cas." Dean suggests, before Cas can come up with a stupid idea like getting rid of him

"There, a good compromise." The mechanic says. Dean winks at the guy.

"Dean, this is why I told you to stay with the group." Cas just looks hopeless.

"There's a breakfast diner two blocks down, best pancakes in town." The mechanic suggests, and Dean secretly thanks him.

"Ooh, pancakes, Cas." He pokes a finger on Cas's cheek. Cas swats his hand away, and sighs in resignation

\---

They get to the diner, they sit at the breakfast counter. Cas orders coffee.

"What do you want, Dean?"

"Uh, toast and jam is okay."

"Just that?" The waitress asks, she looks young. About Dean's age perhaps. She gives him a coy smile. Dean glances at Cas. No one orders toast and jam in a breakfast diner.

"Uh, no," Cas tells the waitress. "Could you give us two breakfast platters please?"

To Dean he says, "Hot chocolate okay?"

Dean smiles at him big.

"Yeah, that'll work."

Cas tries not to return the big smile directed at him.

"Do you have friends?" Castiel asks some time after the waitress left, to cut the awkward silence.

"Sammy."

"I mean at school."

"Some. I'm not very good with friends." Dean leans onto the counter, cradles his head on his arms, and looks up at Cas.

"Me neither." Castiel looks away, because he finds Dean's gaze searing. He takes a sip of his coffee.

"If.. you went to school with me, do you think you'd have liked to be friends with me?" The question is really unexpected. Castiel puts his coffee down, and looks back at Dean.

To be honest, Castiel would probably want to be anything with him but just friends.

"Yes. You're a kind person, Dean." Is what Castiel ends up saying.

"Seriously? That's what you think of me? You can do better than that."

Cas chuckles. And then, more seriously, he says,

"You're kind, and honest, and brave. That's what I think of you."

Dean looks at him suddenly painfully.

Their food arrives. They eat quietly. When they're done, Cas pays. They are about to leave, and Cas stands up.

"You have gravy on your..." Dean gestures to his mouth.

Cas wipes with a napkin, but doesn't get it. And it's like in slow motion, as Castiel watches Dean reach over, to wipe at the spot on Cas's lip with his thumb.

And before he turns away to stand up and sling his jacket on his shoulder, Dean quickly licks it off his own thumb, a quick glance at Cas's way as he does so. And then, he saunters to the front doors of the diner casually, as if he does that shit everyday.

Castiel stands rooted on his spot, and it takes a while before he is able to will himself to actually move.

\---

In the afternoon, the rehearsals went by fast. It's two takes for Dean, then he's done. The proctor didn't even coach him on content or delivery. They hear his poem, and that was it. Some rehearsal. It appears it's not the same for the rest of the group, so he ends up hanging out with Cas as Ms. Braeden mother-hens the rest.

They take turns with a game on Cas's phone that Dean downloaded. Dean tries not to think about how Cas's long fingers look good skittering on the phone screen.

"Man, you're so bad at this." Dean chuckles as he looks at Cas play.

"My hand-eye coordination isn't the best." Cas's eyes never leave the screen, that furrow in between his brows deepening. "Oh, shit."

Dean laughs over the sound of the game that meant game over for Cas.

"Sorry." Cas is probably apologizing for his language, as he hands over the phone.

"God, you're so cute." Dean takes the phone, restarts the game. There is a pause before Castiel answers.

"I don't think I've ever been called cute before."

"No?" Dean throws a quick glance at him, and then trains his eyes back on the game.

"Then you've been lied to," Dean says, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"The world is lying to you, Cas."

\---

There is a ball that night. A socialization event for all the participants. Everyone's excited.

Castiel walks out of the bathroom in a suit and bow tie, and needless to say, Dean just about drooled on sight. Who the fuck wears a suit like that. Who gave this guy the right? _Who gave this guy all the rights?_

They get to the auditorium without any fuss. The decor is 80's themed. Dean chuckles, thinks it's cool, even though he's pretty sure his posse has not been informed of the dress code. Half the people are probably not informed either, or could not be bothered. The closest who are properly dressed among them are Cas and Anna. Anna always dresses a decade back anyway. Tonight she wears a peach cocktail gown with puffy sleeves. The rest of them cannot be farther themed from the 80's. Gabriel is wearing a dress shirt with diamond-studded lapels, and fucking red leather shoes. Ms. Braeden is wearing a long black gown, probably more fitting for a red carpet Hollywood event than a silly high school dance. Charlie, bless her soul, has gotten the wrong memo or just flat out don't give a shit. She's dressed as Poison fucking Ivy.

_"I'm making it a_ _personal_ _mission to make every high school event_ _a_ _chance to cosplay."_

Dean doesn't know whether to laugh his ass out, or give the girl major kudos for that statement alone.

Gabe makes a beeline for this group of people huddled together near the hors d'oeuvres table. Travis (his online boyfriend), looms tall over the group.

There is a table separate for teachers, not really separate but Dean guesses all the teachers just gather there. Same age, same profession. It's stupid. Ms. Braeden wishes them all an enjoyable night, leads Cas to where the teachers are. _Right._

Cas just looks downright sinful. His hair in its constant messed up do, which somehow goes fucking well with the suit. However that worked out, Dean doesn't know. He wonders for the nth time how his hair feels on his fingers.

Dean stays with Anna and Charlie, Anna preoccupied on her phone. And Charlie bobbing her head to the music while stuffing her face with the little appetizer sandwiches. Damn, he needs some alcohol. _Like an hour ago._

Some time through the night, Charlie explores away from their little group to mingle. Anna looks bored, and Dean has his eyes on Castiel across the room. He's been talking to this douchebag-looking guy who looks at Cas like he's going to eat him any time soon. Well, who could blame the guy.

"Aren't you gonna ask me to dance?"

"Sorry, what?" Dean looks at Anna.

"Are we just going to be miserable in this corner the whole night?"

Dean is embarrassed that he didn't even thought about it. He's not that much of an asshole. So he does ask Anna to dance, leads her to the dance floor. They reach the middle, and Dean reaches over to hold Anna, sways her with the music. Dean's eyes can't help but flit over to where Cas is again, to find the guy Cas was talking earlier also leading him to the dance floor. And Dean was stumped, astounded beyond reaction as Cas starts dancing with this guy. Dean's heart starts beating wildly in his chest.

_He's into guys._

_He's dancing with a guy._

_He's dancing with a guy t_ _hat's NOT YOU._

_That should have been you._

Then like a cosmic joke, that is the theme of Dean's life lately, they move so that Cas is turned toward his direction. Their eyes lock, and an even bigger joke is when this Madonna song Crazy for You starts playing. The lights are dim, and Cas doesn't break his stare.

_I see you through the smokey air,_

_Can't you feel the weight of my stare?_

_You're so close but still a world away._

_What I'm dying to say,_

_Is that I'm crazy for you,_

_Touch me once and you'll know it's true_

_I never wanted anyone like this_

_It's all brand new, you'll feel it in my kiss_

_I'm crazy for you._

Dean is so fucked. That's what he is.

\---

_How could this happen? This is not happening._ Is the mantra on loop in Castiel's head. You know those simple moments, those really ordinary moments that make something click in your mind? Like when you're driving, and your partner on the passenger seat says something mundane about say, the price of gas, and it hits you, _wow, you're really in love with this person. Or_ , or when you're in a first aid class for example, and this guy who you just happen to meet there looks at you a certain way, smiles at you a certain way; and that simple gesture from this random guy opens up floodgates in your mind that will never ever close again. And you realize, in that moment, finally and with clarity, that you're gay.

That's how it is when Castiel walked out of the bathroom, looks across the bedroom he shares with his twenty-year old student on this three-day school trip, to see him looking up at him from being crouched on the floor, zipping up his backpack. As simple as that.

He has known he's gay for ages. He has been on relationships before. But he never would have thought, not in his wildest dreams, he'd be falling for a student.

_This is not happening._

Balthazar is a welcome distraction. Open, and friendly, and undeniably gay, the English teacher with a British accent makes it apparent from the get go that he is attracted to Castiel. The rich conversation is a bonus. In two hours' time, he has known about Bathazar's travels all over the world, talked about his political views, his academic profession, his passion for teaching. It is true that an immediate connection like that is priceless, and rare. But it could be that Balthazar is just remarkably social. Then, the guy tells him straight that he'd like to go out with him some time. Castiel's mind wanders to Dean Winchester fleetingly, he shakes it off, drinks half the glass of wine that is served exclusively for their table. Then he tells Balth, _he would love to._

He's had a tad more alcohol than he originally planned on having. They are on the dance floor, dancing to a Madonna song. He's in the arms of Balthazar, and he thinks, you gotta love this millennium. Gay teachers can dance openly in a high school ball. Across the dance floor, he finds Dean's eyes. And his heart starts beating frantically. He wants to avert his gaze, but Dean's eyes just won't quit. So he doesn't, as well. _Let him fucking live._

Later that night, Dean seems to have disappeared. Balthazar invites Castiel to his place. He thinks about being alone in the hotel room with Dean, decided that he might not be able filter his words or actions with him being mildly inebriated. Ultimately, he agrees to go with Balthazar.

\---

It's two in the morning when Balthazar dropped him off at the hotel. He enters the hotel room, finds Dean awake, eyes glued to the television, switching channels. Castiel doesn't say anything as he takes off his coat, hangs it in the closet by the door.

"Was he a good lay?"

Castiel is taken aback by Dean's question, so casually delivered like he's asking about the weather outside.

"That is so inappropriate to ask." Castiel turns to face Dean who never takes his eyes off the TV set.

"Don't you think we've crossed that line by now?" The same monotone.

"No. No we haven't." Castiel might just be losing his mind. "You're my student and I'm your teacher. And you can't ask me questions like that."

Dean finally looks up at him from looking at the television. His face is etched in hard lines, his jaw clenched, and his stare sharp and unkind.

"You can go at me, Cas. I'll take your sloppy seconds. I promise I'm a better lay than him."

"Are you—have you had alcohol?"

"I'll be twenty-one in March." Dean looks away, still looking mad.

"Dean—"

"Fuck!" Dean throws the remote control on the bed forcefully, and gets up from the bed abruptly. "I can't believe I let it get this bad! I got it so bad for you, Cas." Dean's voice is gruff and hopeless.

He grabs his jacket on the bed, strides to the door, where Cas is standing.

"Dean, please stop."

"I'm gonna leave." Dean reaches for the door knob. Just before opening the door and heading out, looks at Castiel squarely and coldly.

Cas is stunned in silence and immobility, until the door shuts loudly with a disappointing finality.

\---

**Where are you?**

**Fuck off, Cas.**

**Tell me where you are. And I'll come and get you.**

Dean shuts his phone off, buries it in his back pocket. He asks the bartender for another bottle.

\---

The next day is the competition. Dean stands in front of two hundred people, spotlight on him.

**There is a skeleton in my closet.**

**He's my enemy and my nightmare,**

**And my longest friend.**

**Late at night he would whisper**

**Stories in my ear,**

**He would keep me up,**

**Rehash every memory**

**Until there's only fear.**

**He started rotting when I was six,**

**And he'd just keep growing, rotting.**

**Growing, rotting.**

**He'd tell me who I am, and who I'm not.**

**And I'd believe him.**

**Because he's my only truth.**

**There is a gun in my bedside drawer,**

**A thing of beauty and power.**

**Steel and stainless, begs to be held tight,**

**Begs to be nursed night after night.**

**The first time you touched me,**

**I thought my brain was too small to understand.**

**Because all I ever felt was confused.**

**I went back to playing little toy soldiers,**

**Went back reading my little boy books.**

**The second time it happened,**

**I knew it had to be wrong,**

**Because It felt wrong.**

**I remember crying not-so-little boy tears.**

**The third time, you made the mistake of whispering in my ear,**

**"Relax, son." and "Good boy."**

**Because after then, every word you say to me drips of malice.**

**It happens again and again,**

**Festered like a disease.**

**And I expect it, and I don't loathe it.**

**But I certainly don't love it.**

**It was a duty, I was a good boy.**

**I was your good little boy.**

**You'd tell me you love me**

**After every time you touch me.**

**So it's okay, I guess.**

**How do you suppose I equate love now**

**to anything that is not pain or fear,**

**or anything less?**

**Because love?**

**How do you love your little boy like that?**

**How do you grow as a little boy like that?**

**I grew in pain, and confusion.**

**I grew in gas store blow jobs,**

**And cheap gas store booze.**

**Somewhere beneath the numbing,**

**My hopes and dreams lie,**

**buried and encumbered,**

**Begging to rest in pieces,**

**And to finally die.**

**When I look at my little brother,**

**You know what I see?**

**Gratitude and Hope.**

**At least it wasn't him, but me.**

**So when I think about you,**

**I don't think of hate or pain.**

**When I think about you,**

**It's how to not love like you do.**

**I'm redefining love, chipping away**

**At these cracks on the pavements.**

**I'm winning everyday.**

**One day, I will dig my grave,**

**Exhume my hopes and dreams,**

**And in their place,**

**Finally bury**

**This skeleton in my closet.**

Dean stands in front of two hundred people, spotlight on him. It feels like an eternity of silence, it is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

And then, the first applause.

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut finally! :)  
> Peace out.

Castiel knocks tentatively on the hotel room door. Dean was nowhere to be seen right after his piece in the competition, and Castiel thought he might have retreated back to the room. There is no answer, so Cas uses the keycard to open the door.

He finds Dean sitting on the floor, back to the wall across the room. There is a six-pack of beer beside him, and from the looks of it, Dean is on his third can already.

"Heya, Cas."

Castiel sighs, walks to where Dean is.

"You won best delivery."

Dean scoffs, looking down at the beer can in his hands.

"You shouldn't be drinking."

"Seriously, Cas?" Dean looks up at him. "I'm twenty years old. In most parts of the world, I'm legal....In every way."

There was a pause before Dean adds that last bit. Castiel thinks if Dean is referring to anything else aside from drinking.

Castiel lets out a sigh again, and then not even bothering to take off his trench coat, sits down on the floor next to Dean. He takes a can from the six-pack, opens the lid, and takes a long, hard swallow.

"I'm sorry," Castiel says after some time.

Silence.

"If all that was true, I'm sorry."

"What, the poem?" He feels Dean's eyes on him. "Yeah, all true. I was abused and molested by my own father."

"You are very strong and brave, Dean." He turns to look at Dean's face.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"I am."

"Pretty messed up, but I make do." Dean takes another drink from his can.

"I think you are doing a pretty good job. surviving, thriving."

"It's Sammy. It was all Sam that stopped me from going dark."

"It's a beautiful thing, what you have with Sam."

"Can I ask you a question, Cas?" Dean's voice is very quiet, sincere.

Cas looks at him in acknowledgment.

"Have you ever had your heart broken?"

"Not in the way that you had yours."

"How," Deans asks. "Tell me how."

There is a beat when Castiel hesitates, thinks about a random relationship gone wrong, thinks about telling Dean some petty thing of a 'heartbreak' that happened before that he doesn't really care about now. But then he shakes his head, _what the hell._ Dean deserves honesty. From anybody. And Dean is so brave, opening up to a stadium of strangers, sharing his story. And here he is, cowering in shame because he can't tell one person how fucking lonely he is.

"For so long, I've felt...cold." He meets Dean's piercing eyes, full of attention like Castiel is spilling a highly confidential information instead of a pathetic confession.

"Just cold, like I have been left on my own devices for so long. And there is nothing in my past that is substantial enough to keep me warm. I'm just...here. It is heartbreaking, everyday." Cas huffs.

"Cas..."

"I'm sorry, it's not—I—you don't underst—you probably don't understand, it's okay. I'm just rambling now."

The problem is that Dean looks like he _does_ understand, there is pity behind his eyes, or something else. It is the last thing Castiel wants from anyone. Pity.

"Is it because I'm young?"

"What?"

"I understand more than you think I can."

Their drinks are forgotten now, they look at each other as if there is a challenge brewing underneath.

"I—I know. You are very smart. And kind. I'm sorry, it's because...I shouldn't be talking about this with you. You're my student."

"Fuck that."

Dean's voice is gruff against Castiel's lips. It happens in an instant that Dean's face is suddenly right up against his. Dean's fingers framing his chin, as he crushes his mouth to Castiel's.

It takes two seconds for Castiel's brain to catch up. Dean Winchester, _his student_ , the very same reason he is on the verge of destroying his whole entire life over, is kissing him right now. And it is the most sinful, most glorious thing twisted together that ever happened to him. His heart is like a winged creature flapping wildly in his chest.. And Castiel opens his mouth, to let Dean in, closes his eyes at the sweet taste of Dean's tongue against his. It is glorious. _Glorious_.

And then, he was pushing against Dean. Where Dean is the one leading initially, Castiel finds a grip on Dean's shirt where he hangs on for life or sanity, as he pushes his tongue in his mouth, begging for anything he has to give. Castiel pushes against Dean, until he is on top of him on the floor, his trench coat cocooning both of them. And Dean keeps on giving, moaning against his lips, his fingers treading into his hair like he never wants to let go.

\---

Dean could cry at the feel of Castiel's hair on his fingers alone. The fact that Castiel is on top of him, kissing the daylights out of him right now. Man, he would die a happy death. Now or whenever. Castiel's mouth is soft and needy, and a hundred times better than he'd imagine. And he had imagined. _A lot_. A moan escapes his throat, against Castiel's lips, and opens his mouth once again to capture the other's mouth.

One moment they are kissing, the next second Castiel pushes against him to get up abruptly. Dean opens his eyes, lifts on his elbows, to see Cas moving away from him with a scared, crazed look in his eyes.

"Dean!" Castiel's lips look red and swollen. And Dean is just there thinking that he did that.

Castiel turns away, scrunching his face with his hand, his hair is a mess and so goddamn beautiful. Cas sits on the bed, and buries his face in his hands.

"Listen, Cas—"

"Dean, I apologize for doing what I did." Cas cuts him, spares Dean an anxious glance. "I don't know what came over me, honestly."

Dean is just stumped. _No no no no._

"This is a pitiful excuse for an apology. Fuck, and very inappropriate." Castiel starts to ramble, doesn't even look at Dean.

"I understand completely if you would so compelled to report it."

"Cas, cas..."

"I can accompany you to Principal Shurley if you want. I am prepared to face consequences, _shit_ , legal action even..."

"Cas! Stop!"

Castiel finally stops rambling.

"Could you fucking stop. This is giving me a headache." Dean stands up from being on the floor, more sober than he was just an hour ago. He goes to where Castiel is sitting on the side of the bed, in that three feet of space separating their two beds.

"Get up," he tells Cas.

Cas is shaking his head, confused.

"Get up, Cas."

Cas looks at him like he's crazy, but gets up from the bed anyway. Dean moves to where Cas is awkwardly standing in two strides, doesn't give Cas time to react, and cradles his face on two hands, smashes his mouth onto Cas's. He is not planning for it to be short kiss this time, so he opens his mouth, laps on Castiel's lower lip. Until Cas finally gives in and opens just a little bit, to let him in. Dean hears a groan from Castiel, and it goes straight to his dick, everything about Cas is so incredibly hot. Dean almost forgets he's trying to make a point. He kisses Cas one more time, open-mouthed and wantonly. And then he lets go, looks directly at Cas as he opens his eyes, in a daze. Dean is met with lust-blown pupils, and _he wants._ God, he wants to just forget about everything else, and make love to Cas.

"I was the one who started it."

"Dean..." Cas is out of breath, and flushed.

Dean kisses him again, moves his hands inside the trench coat to caress Castiel's back.

"This doesn't make things better. I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. This is not right." Cas whispers against Dean's lips.

And fuck, Dean is tired of hearing all this "inappropriate" bullshit. Dean just reaches over, gropes Cas's ass cheeks, pulls him against Dean, closer so that there is no space in between them, so that Cas can feel his hard-on. Dean grinds against Cas, and the thin material of their clothing allows them to rut against each other's erections. Dean hears himself moan, and catches the sounds from Cas with yet another open-mouthed kiss.

"Who's taking advantage of who now?"

"Dean, Dean... we have to stop."

"Yeah?" More kisses. And Dean is just rock hard inside his pants.

Castiel nods against his face, his eyes lust-blown and lips so swollen.

"Make me." Dean pushes his tongue inside his mouth and licks.

"Oh god, this is so fucked up," Cas says before pulling away from Dean's mouth. For a moment, Dean thinks it's over. But Castiel pushes him to the bed. Dean lands with a bounce, looks up to find Cas removing his trench coat, a predatory look in his eyes. It is the single sexiest thing that Dean will ever know.

Castiel rests on top of him, laying his body against him, his stubble scratching on his cheek as Cas finds his mouth once again with his own. Dean feels Castiel's hardness press against his stomach, and he wants, oh how he wants. Dean's hands starts wandering, from being buried in Castiel's hair, to the hard planes of his back, and then to his firm ass. Dean squeezes his ass, presses him even closer to Dean's own erection. Cas moans against his neck, starts to unzip Dean's jeans. Dean raises his hips, Cas lowers Dean's pants and boxers, and Dean looks into Cas's eyes as the other man finally takes him in his hand. He groans loudly, and he started dripping pre-cum in Cas's hand. Cas's eyes never leave his face.

"Dean."

"Fuck, baby." Dean whimpers.

"God, you're so beautiful."

"Do you want me, Cas?"

"You have no idea," Cas crushes his mouth to his lips again, all the while his hand moving on Dean's dick.

"Does it feel good?" Castiel's voice is gruff and raspy.

"Feels awesome." Dean groans, the amount of pre-cum frothing against his dick is obscene, and Dean is in cloud fucking nine.

"You feel so good, Dean."

"I'm gonna come."

"Me too."

Cas starts jacking him hard, the shuffling of his hand creating a friction against his own dick still inside his slacks.

Dean shouts when he finally comes, shooting his load all over Castiel's pants and hands. Castiel catches his mouth with his own, muffling Dean's shout. Then Cas starts stuttering his hips against Dean's as he comes inside his pants.

Cas rests his forehead against Dean after their climax. They are both out of breath, breathing each other in. Dean opens his eyes to find Castiel's eyes closed.

"Cas."

"That should have not happened." Castiel stands up, not even looking at Dean. He goes to the bathroom, shuts the door. Dean hears the sound of the lock, as he lies still in the same position Cas left him in. After a while, he hears the water in the bathroom running.

\---

The drive back to their town is quiet. Castiel is steeping in mortification and shame in the driver's seat. In the back of the vehicle, people sleep through most of the drive. Except for Charlie who has her headphones on, on her phone, and probably gaming.

In the passenger seat, Dean broods, his head against the window. It starts snowing outside.

\---

It is Wednesday. Three in the afternoon, and two days after they get back from the competition. Castiel packs up his laptop and books, as the last student leaves the classroom. At this time, the school usually empties of students fast enough, all itching to get home or whatever.

"Give me the extra credits."

Castiel does not even notice Dean Winchester enter the room, his voice clear and steady in the empty space.

"Sorry?" Castiel looks at Dean, astounded.. He has his backpack slung on his shoulders, the same black Hanes shirt he always seem to favor, and jeans as usual. And Cas's breath takes. All that had happened over the weekend in their hotel room replaying in his mind like a fast film. And his eyes land on Dean's lips. Those lips...

"Give me all the credits you can for me to pass this class, Cas."

"Dean..."

"How can I get them?"

"Uh-- I'll email you work sh-sheets," Castiel stammers, because Dean looks so determined, formidable. "And you'll have to complete some essays."

"When? I need them as soon as possible."

"Dean, why this all of a sudden?"

"The earlier I finish them, the more I can do for the extra credits for my other subjects." Dean sets his jaw to an impatient line.

"Okay," Castiel is very confused. "I'll send them to you at the end of the week."

"Fucking great." Dean's words drips of sarcasm, and his eyes are cold and unforgiving. He turns around to head for the door, stops in his tracks before he turns around to look at Cas in the face. He walks backwards to leave the room, and says,

"Look, I'm finally going to graduate next year. And when I do, I'm coming for your ass, Novak."

And then Dean turns to make it outside the door, and into the hallway, leaving Castiel standing there still and confused, utterly turned on, and absolutely destroyed for all of humanity.

\---

It is April. Dean has been working his ass off, trying to fill in school work for credits. And it has been paying off, sure. But it has been shitty. There was winter vacation, he worked at Bobby's shop during the holidays. Which meant he wasn't able to see Cas everyday. After their weekend in Banff, Cas had been distant. Well, more distant than ever. He does not ever look at Dean's way anymore, rarely notices him in class, and generally avoids him. Dean would notice, because before, Cas usually stays in the staff room after his classes are done for the day. Now, he goes home straight away.

Cas never replies to his texts anymore. He tried calling him once, he gets the voice mail. And Dean still has pride to not call or text again when the guy is clearly avoiding him like the plague. But Dean has not given up. Far from it. He's graduating in two months' time, and damn if Castiel fucking Novak won't have him then.

\---

Castiel sits outside Principal Shurley's office, the letter he had typed last night hot in his hands.

When he is let in, Castiel sits in front of the head of the school, who is looking at his severe expression worriedly.

Castiel hands the folder over to the Principal.

"Mr. Shurley, I am resigning."

Principal Shurley perused the document handed to him with furrowed eyebrows, and worry in his eyes.

"Just until the end of June? So after graduation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Castiel, this has been your third year with us now," Principal Shurley places down the folder on the table, looks at Cas directly. "You are an invaluable asset to the English Department, and the whole faculty. I must say, this is very unexpected. May I ask what brought this on?"

"Nothing on your end, Sir," Castiel clears his throat. "This is purely a professional move. I am moving to another city."

"A career is waiting for you there, I understand?"

"Not official yet. But I've applied and have undergone interviews, yes," he swallows anxiously. "And I am hopeful of a job prospect."

Principal Shurley continues to look at him morosely.

"Well, it certainly was a pleasure to work with you. You are most welcome here if you do decide to come back."

"Thank you, sir." Castiel doesn't move from his chair, "But I have a request. I must ask you to keep my resignation a confidential matter. If it would be possible to keep it between the two of us, and the HR personnel that will be processing my leave. That would be appreciated."

"Consider it done." Principal Shurley smiles somberly at him.

\---

It is the last letter in the mail, a brown envelope with tattered edges and no return address.

Castiel sips lukewarm coffee from his cup, as he looks through his balcony door, into the gloomy winterscape outside. City living is utterly isolating. He didn't think he could be lonelier before. _Who's he fooling?_ Because look at him now. A year after his move, he is now an English teacher for newcomers in one of the prime colleges in Toronto. The newcomers program was a welcome change to his career, but everything else was hard. The rent is crazy high, more so because he lives in the city centre. The food is expensive. And the people are always busy, working, and earning money. Everything is fast-paced, everyone is tired. Everything and everyone is isolated.. Everything and everyone needs a break.

Castiel tears open one end of the envelope, and takes out two pieces of paper, both crumpled at the edges. The first unfolded one was a photocopy of a diploma. There is a moment when his heart does a double take, and starts beating furiously as he examines the piece of paper carefully. It finally sinks in that Dean Winchester has mailed him a copy of his own high school diploma. And yes, he graduated a year ago, that very same day that Castiel secretly left town.

Castiel's fingers fumbles for the other piece of paper. It is folded, with Dean's handwriting that read _'Cas'_ on the outside. He opens it, finds a short note in Dean's messy scrawl.

**Cas, just want to let you know what a fucking coward you are. I hope you're happy in your new life.**

Cas does not realize he is holding his breath, as he reads the note again and again. He lets out his breath shakily, forcibly. And then, the tears start falling.

 


	4. FIVE YEARS LATER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done. This was months in the making because I just can't make a fic now that does not involve angst and plot galore, can I? 
> 
> Posting the last two chapters. This last one is my favorite. 
> 
> This one is so full of angst. 
> 
> Oh, and smut again ;)
> 
> Peace out!

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

"Good job, guys!!!" Dean shouts over the little sea of heads around him. "That was awesome! Awesome game!" Dean high fives everyone he could, among his little league baseball team of eight to ten-year olds. They continue to mob him, as they hug and clap each other on the back.

"Okay, okay, wrap it up!" Dean laughs at the frenzy around him. He chances a glance to the bleachers, where their audience has dwindled down to only the parents and guardians eagerly waiting for their children.

"Mr. Winchester, was I awesome?" Jack Bradbury looks up at him with a toothy grin, his sweaty hair plastered to his head, and his helmet in one hand. He is only six, and the youngest member of the little league. Jack mostly run around during tournaments, no real grasp of what the game is actually about. Everyone pretty much ignores him during the actual game. It's funny as hell.

"You were the best!" Dean laughs, and shuffles the little guy's hair. Jack's eyes gleam in excitement, and Dean doesn't think the kid's smile could grow any wider. Jack looks to where Charlie Bradbury, his mom, is seated in the bleachers. Dean does too, to find that Charlie had come down now, and is waiting outside the field. She is standing there, waiting with someone. And Dean had to squint. _Because this keep fucking happening everytime_. Every goddamn time. And Dean is sick of it. Sick that he'll mistake every trenchcoat-wearing person for Cas. Sick that in a sea of people anywhere, he would find that one guy that has the same features as Cas, or the same hair. Sick that after all this time, his brain plays the same fucking tricks on him, and just won't let him fucking live his life in peace, without the constant reminder that in his unedited consciousness, he's still absolutely fucking in love with Castiel Novak.

But Dean steps closer and closer, to find this guy looking back at him. And he has the same expressions as Cas. The same lips. Same jut in the chin. The same hair. Eyes— _What kind of fucking—_

And then it hits him, like a cold slap in the face. It only took a second, and Dean's face turned into a mask, unmoving and stunned into an expressionless veneer. There is not a thought going on in his brain. It's as if five years ago had just been yesterday, as Castiel stands there looking back at him, in all his glory. And he's so beautiful. _God, he's still so beautiful._

\---

He doesn't know Dean will be there, or that he is the actual little league baseball coach. He doesn't know that. Charlie invited him to meet her son, and Cas just went.

Well, it was only a matter of time, Castiel tells himself, shaking his head as he hurries walking away from the baseball field to the darkened parking lot, slowly clearing of vehicles. The summer grass crunches from his quickened footsteps.

He reaches his vehicle, a gold Continental that looks like a cross between a pimp car and something that a dirty old man would drive. Well, he's not dirty. And he's not that old. The car was cheap and the engine was clean, as far as he knows. So he bought it at an auction. He gets in, rolls his window down quickly, and starts the engine. _Tries_ to start the engine.

The engine sputters and dies. He tries to start it again, and it does the same thing.

"Come on, come on..." Cas says under his breath, attempting to start the vehicle the third time. And like a miracle, the engine prattles to life. Castiel heaves a deep breath out of relief.

"Running away again?"

Castiel's turns his head to the sound of the voice, startled out of his preoccupation with the state of his vehicle. He clutches his chest, as he looks back at Dean Winchester outside his car window, peering down at him.

"Dean, n-no, I—" Dean raises both eyebrows, waiting for Castiel's excuse this time. He looks so handsome, he always had. _But this Dean,_ this Dean is so achingly beautiful it is painful to look at.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Castiel looks away, to the windshield.

"What are you doing here?" Dean folds the baseball glove over in his one hand.

"Charlie invited me to watch Jack play." Castiel's eyes never meets Dean.

"So you just flew here across the country, to watch Charlie's boy play little league baseball... And it's not even the finals." Dean deadpans dryly.

Castiel finally looks at Dean through the rolled down car window. Outside, it starts drizzling.

"I moved back in town, Dean."

There is a silent beat where Dean just _stares_ at Cas after that statement, and the light seems to slowly leave his eyes. Castiel swallows dryly, not knowing what to make of this reaction from Dean.

"Right." Dean finally says, there is malice in his voice, and sarcasm. Dean looks away, as if he had to, but he still just stands there, the baseball mitt now being slapped on his right palm, the leather making a crisp noise.

"Right," Dean says again, as he finally turns to walk away from Castiel's vehicle.

"Dean," it is a mere whisper but Dean turns back around.

"By the way, thank you for the College Recommendation you left at my front door on graduation day." Dean clicks his tongue.

"Would've mailed you my college diploma too, but I figured, _what the hell for, right?_ As if you ever cared anyway."

Dean turns away again, walks fast this time like he means it, towards his own car. The rain starts to pour down hard, and Castiel stares after Dean a long time after he's left.

\---

It is seven o'clock in the morning. The light outside is dim, the yellow street lamps are still on, casting a surreal, gloomy glow onto the still empty roads. Dean drives through the familiar town, a few shops are opening for the day. Around this time, Dean would catch Mr. Lopez is fixing his first batch of donut display for the day. Mrs. Ziegler would be stretching in front of her convenience store, greeting early morning passersby. Kayden from the local flower shop would also be taking out bundles and bundles of bouquet to be arranged, and put on display. This little district, as it is now called, ever since the tourist boom, is somewhat of a tourist hangout; with its quaint coffee shops and old-fashioned diners, flower shops and vintage stores. A few years ago, Dean would have not thought that erecting a business here would be decent, it is their small, unassuming town afterall. But the oil industry took off, and that drew people in their quiet little town. Dean is lucky.

He parks in a wide driveway of a business lot. On top of the building, written against a firehouse-red lighted sign, long and wide, is 'SINGER AUTO' in white. The garage doors are closed. Dean takes his coffee, and a bag of donuts from the passenger seat, exits the vehicle, and starts to open up shop.

Dean switches on the lights inside the garage. There are about ten vehicles parked inside, in a sort of systematic jumble. It is Saturday, and Dean's mechanics are not going to be coming in until after 10am. But Dean always comes in early, starts to work here and there, fixing minor projects, or minding the shop, and the occasional early customers.

Dean comes in the office, switches on the news, as he takes a sip of his coffee. He hears a vehicle pull up outside, Dean looks at the clock. 7:30, _wow, okay, that's a first._ Dean goes to investigate, peering out from the office door, and walking towards the gold Continental he'd recognize from anywhere. Cas does not get out of the vehicle right away, but he eventually does when Dean stands in front of the hood.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel looks well. He is wearing a black sweater with a pattern on the shoulders, and jeans. His hair is messy, and Dean feels a familiar pull inside him that he refuses to indulge in. Instead, he engulfs it with disdain.

"What now, Cas?"

"I came here to have my car checked."

"What's wrong with her?" Dean's voice comes out gruff and all business.

"Uh, the engine light is on," Cas says tentatively, his eyes still so sad and unsure. It's ridiculous how that should look pathetic, but it just looks so fucking beautiful on Cas. Like you'd want to protect him or something. _Fuck._

Castiel's eyes land on the 'CLOSED' sign on the glass window of the office.

"Oh, you're still closed. I didn't realize," Cas says quickly. "I-I can come back later, or uhm.." He fumbles for his keys, and makes a move to open his car door.

Dean moves closer to where Cas is, so that Cas moves away to make room. Dean opens the door himself and lifts the hatch from the interior that opens the hood of the vehicle. He does not say anything as he examines the engine. Castiel stands a few feet away, wary and cautious as if he'd catch a disease or something if he stands too close to Dean.

"You have a nice shop, Dean." Castiel says quietly. And Dean looks at him then.

"Thank you," Dean says. "It's actually a business partnership. With Bobby."

"How's your uncle?"

"Old, and still cranky."

"You guys did a wonderful job, this place looks amazing. I'm proud of y—" Castiel stops mid-sentence, he turns red in the face. "You must be proud."

That tugs on Dean's chest a little. Because he is proud of their business, proud that he made all this happen from scratch. And here's Cas, catching himself saying _'I'm proud of you.'_ Cas doesn't finish saying it because what right does he have? And Dean wants to to agree that yes, _he doesn't have any fucking right to be proud of me._ He wants to agree so badly, but he doesn't feel that way.

Instead, Dean wants to say, _'You're the only reason why I finished college at all.'_

He wants to say so badly to Cas, _'I hated you because all I had left of you was a fucking college recommendation letter. And everyday, I wanted to prove you wrong that I'm not a failure. That someday, I will be fucking good enoug_ _h for you._

But he doesn't say that. He looks at Cas, and nods tersely.

"Yeah, business is good, Cas." Dean sighs, and moves to check under the car.

"You have an oil leak, and spark plugs need changing." Dean comes back up, to see Cas looking worried.

"Relax, I can fix it," Dean immediately says. He checks himself because he shouldn't be this eager to allay Cas's worries like it's his problem or something.

"Um, I have to undo these equipment around the engine to make sure where the leak is though. So, it might take the whole day."

Cas nods agreeably. "That's great, I can come pick it up later tonight. Or tomorrow—uh, whenever.."

Dean suppresses a chuckle.

"Do you have a spare vehicle?"

Cas shakes his head.

"Do you need to be somewhere today?"

"Just—school. The Community College. But not until nine. So uh, I can wa... I have lots of time."

"You're not walking there Cas," Dean wipes his hands on a rag. "And the cab services here is shit. I'll drive you."

\---

"I'll drive you," Dean says, and shuts the hood of the car with a resounding finality.

Cas panics, but Dean is quick to move to the driveway, pulls down the industrial garage door from the outside, looks at Cas when he doesn't move.

"You coming?"

"You don't need to close your shop for me Dean. I can get a cab."

"Just come out," Dean says impatiently. Castiel does, and Dean pulls down the garage door completely, and locks it.

"Dean."

"Get in the car, Cas." Dean is already sliding in the driver's seat of the old Impala, which looks exactly like it did all those years ago.

Dean drives Castiel through the familiar town. It is quiet, and Dean does not bother to turn the radio on. There is a chill outside, so they keep their windows rolled up.

"What time are you done today?" Dean asks, his face a mask.

"Uh, I don't finish work until seven."

"Come by the shop, I'll be done with your car then."

Before Castiel can say thank you, Dean says,

"I can pick you up from work."

"That won't be necessary, Dean," comes Castiel's quick reply. "I can get a ride at work."

"Okay," Dean's eyes remain on the road, his jaw set into a hard line.

After some time, Castiel tries to break the awkward silence.

"How is Sam?"

"Stanford law, first year." Dean makes a right to the street where the College is located. Castiel feels elated to hear that Sam made it to Stanford.

"Wow, Dean, that's amazing," he can't help but stare at the man behind the wheel, so different from the kid he was a few years back. Castiel feels proud, but at the same time, he feels sad about it. Sad that he didn't get to be a part of Dean's journey to this success he has now.

"I know man, I couldn't believe it when he got in," there is a visible shift in Dean's demeanor when he talks about Sam. "I mean, it's not cheap, that's for sure. But not everyone can get in fucking Stanford."

"No, you're right, Dean," Castiel agrees. "It is a unique opportunity. It's amazing, you and Sam are both amazing."

They arrive at the school. Dean parks the car in the parking lot, kills the engine. He doesn't say anything, looks out the windshield.

It is only 8:15. Cas wants to say a million things to Dean, but can't seem find where to start.

"I'm sorry, Dean." So he starts with that.. "You're right, I was a coward. I ran away, and I couldn't even say goodbye or say anything, really."

Dean grips the steering wheel tightly, looking out the window. Tears are threatening to fall from Castiel's eyes, he suppresses the break in his voice that he's sure to come if he keeps on talking.

"You are the most beautiful thing to happen to me, and I ran away," Castiel opens the door latch. "So I'm sorry," Castiel gets off the car before he breaks down in front of Dean. He walks to the building hurriedly, trying to keep the tears at bay, just until he enters the front doors.

\---

Dean could not focus the entire fucking day. From the moment he knew Cas was back in town, really, he can't focus on anything. It's like he wants to tell Cas things that would hurt him, make him feel guilty of what emotional torture Dean went through all these years because of him. But it's different when Cas is in front of him. This morning, Cas looked so helpless and out of place, Dean just wanted to tell him _it's okay._ _I'm gonna make everything okay._

All these fucking years. _Fuck._

Dean stops turning the wrench on one flat truck tire. He throws the instrument on the floor. All the staff have gone home, except for Bobby who is still in the office. The clock on the wall says 6:30.

"Hey, boy," shouts Bobby from the door of the office. Dean stands up, to see the old man looking worried. He's got his sweater and hat on, and getting ready to go home for the night.

"You tryna fix the car or wreck it?"

"Go home, Bobby." Dean heaves a sigh. "Say hi to Jody for me."

"Next weekend, don't forget. She's cookin'," Bobby has a pot of shriveled up cactus in one arm. Dean assumes the old man is taking it home to have Jody nurse it back to life. "She's gon' kill me if ya don't come," Bobby mutters to himself loud enough for Dean to hear, as he putters around before leaving.

"How can I forget? Jeez, you tell me every goddamn day," Dean mutters back.

Bobby finally dawdles through the garage doors, to his beat up old truck parked in the front lot, with a final 'idjit' before crossing the threshold.

Dean smiles to himself. He loves the old man, and is glad that he's found Jody, and that Jody, bless her soul, has not ran away yet like one would expect from a normal person.

Dean checks the time. It's seven o'clock.

\---

It is fifteen minutes past seven when Cas comes walking back in the shop. Only half of the garage is lit now, and the office light is switched off. Castiel's Continental is right at the front.

Cas finds Dean in the back, arms buried in the gut of a GMC.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean looks up in acknowledgment. He wipes his arms and hands in a dirty white rag. He doesn't say hello back, and Cas is jumpy and wary around him. Dean disappears for a minute, then comes back to hand Castiel back the keys. Dean also hands him a clipboard, there is an information sheet that Castiel assumes need filling out.

He fills in the form quietly, writing in his name, address, phone. All the while, Dean has not said a single word to him. When he's done, he hands back the clipboard to Dean. And Dean walks away with it, leaving him alone beside his car.

"Dean," Castiel calls out. Dean doesn't turn. "Dean! How much do I owe you?"

Dean stops in his tracks, finally turns with a glum look in his face.

"It's free today. Newcomers' special."

"Dean, no."

"Just—" Dean sighs, "go home, Cas."

Castiel does not expect to be hurt by that. Something about the way Dean said it; like he just wants to be rid of him, like he doesn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Castiel could not blame him.

"Okay, Dean," he says painfully, and "I'm sorry."

\---

Dean watches Castiel drive away. He stands there in the middle of the garage long after Castiel's tail lights are gone. Dean keeps a calm facade, but his heart is beating furiously against his chest. Something about the way Cas said _'Okay, Dean'_ breaks his heart, messes up with his head. His mind keeps going to this image of Castiel driving out of town again, never ever coming back. And this time around, Dean might not find him. This time around, Castiel might not decide to come back. _Why did he come back?_

Dean allows the hurt and anger to really sink in, _how could you?_

Before the tears come take over, Dean snatches his keys from the key rack, closes up the shop, and strides to his car with only one purpose in mind.

_He's going to hurt Cas back._

\---

It is nine at night, and Castiel decides to go to bed. It has been a hard day. Seeing Dean today so unaffected by him, it hurts more than Castiel could admit. Dean had always been passionate about the things he loved. Like reading, and cars, and Sam and Bobby. And Cas. Now, Castiel feels like he's missed something. Like he had a chance at being happy, but he let it pass him by. He feels like some part of him is slowly and surely dying, ebbing away, and he cannot do anything about it. It feels like he's lost a friend.

There is banging on his front door. Castiel shoots out of bed, his muddled up thoughts dispelled by the loud, insistent sound. He hurries to the sparsely-furnished living room, the small space filled with boxes still needing to be unpacked.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Castiel's mind runs through any reason a neighbor might be this upset with him. _What has he done? What happened?_

He swings open the front door, to find Dean Winchester standing there, glaring at him, with dark eyes and a set jaw. One moment he's standing there, the next, Castiel is being pushed at.

"You fucking bastard," Dean gathers Cas's shirt in his fists, pushes him against a living room wall, his eyes sharp and filled with contempt.

"What right do you have to come back here? What? You just up and decided you want to ruin my life again?"

"D-Dean.." Castiel whimpers.

"What do you think of me now? Huh, Cas?" He looks at Castiel in the eyes. "I finished school, I have my own house. I have job. I have my own fucking business. I pay for my brother's college. What do you fucking think of me now?!" Dean shouts, and the pained sound makes Castiel close his eyes.

And then, with the same pain, he tells Cas more softly this time,

"Am I enough for you yet? Am I finally old enough for you yet? What's it gonna be this time?"

Castiel could not fight the sudden flow of tears.

_"I'm sorry."_

"Is that what you came back here for? To say sorry?" Dean challenges, the pain and outrage and venom still so evident in his glare. "To ruin my peace? My life?"

"Dean I—I can stay away, if you want."

"If I want? _If I want?_ You don't know what I want! You don't fucking care what I want." His voice breaks at the last word. Dean ducks his head down, swallowing his emotion, as he still holds Cas against the wall.

"I do," Cas whispers under his breath. "Dean, I do."

"I want it all." It is a mere whisper, soft and breaking. Castiel hears it, and Dean finally looks up at him, his eyes brimming with tears. There is no more anger left there, only pain now. And Castiel wants to take it all away.

"I want it all, Cas. The whole nine yards.. I want everything. _Everything you have to give._ I want you-with me. I want you to not hold anything back anymore...I want you to stop running away. I want you to stay... I want it all." Dean looks down, still clutching Cas's shirt with both hands, as he buries the top of his head against Cas's chest.

"I want it all," he sobs hopelessly.

"Yes." Cas cradles Dean's face, raises it to look him in the eyes. They are both crying, and Cas kisses Dean's tear-streaked cheeks.

"You may have it, everything you want from me. You may have it. I'm yours, Dean." Castiel keeps kissing his cheeks, wiping his tears away with his fingers.

"Cas?" Castiel finds his eyes, there is so much uncertainty and doubt in them. Dean slowly unclenches his fists against Cas's shirt.

"I'm yours, Dean." Castiel says again, his eyes sincere and longing. Dean shakes his head, like he doesn't believe a word Castiel is saying.

"I came back here for you." Cas holds his stare, and he hopes it shows what he actually feels for Dean, and what he wants Dean to know.

"I'm sorry I left." Dean tries to move away, but Cas comes after him, his face mere inches away. "I love you....Dean, I love you," the moment Cas says it, it became the truest, purest thing that Cas has ever uttered in his entire life. And the tears only keep coming at Cas's realization. "I'm sorry...I love you."

Dean sobs in his arms. Cas arms go around him, in an embrace. And Dean just cries, and Castiel holds him, strokes his hair gently.

"Shh, I'm here. I love you. I'm here..."

\---

It's two in the morning, and Dean wakes up in Castiel's arms, in his bed. The bedside lamp casts a beautiful glow on Cas's face. His lips pink and framed by his stubble. And the first thing on Dean's mind is, _I can kiss his lips._

So he does. Dean plants a chaste kiss on Cas's lips, and then little kisses on his cheeks, down his neck.

 _I am allowed to have this._ Dean sighs against Cas's collarbone. Castiel moans against Dean's kisses, and soon he is waking up. Nothing really happened between them last night other than they cried together in bed, Cas cuddled him, stroke his hair, and gave him forehead kisses. It was sweet, and almost a spiritual experience for Dean. But now, he wants to take, _he wants what is rightfully his._

"Dean."

"Yeah," Dean continues to kiss his neck.

"What time is it?"

"Two AM," Dean bites the side of his jaw.

"Come 'ere," Castiel growls, opens his eyes finally, and pulls Dean up to him, so that Dean lays on top of him.

Cas crushes Dean's mouth down on his lips.. He slips his tongue against the seam of Dean's mouth, and tastes.

Dean groans at the sudden wave of intense desire at just the feel of Cas's tongue on him. He opens his mouth more and laps at Cas's bottom lip, sucks on it. He feels Cas's hands on his back, stroking along his spine and down his ass. Cas slaps his hands against Dean's ass cheeks, and then molds them to press Dean's crotch down on his. Dean feels himself getting hard as Cas continues to pull his hips down. All the while, Cas never stops assault with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck, Cas."

"I'm so hard for you, Dean."

Cas takes his hand and places it in his crotch, the thin material of Cas's pajama bottoms does not hide much. Dean looks down at his hand against the outline of Castiel's cock on the flimsy fabric. And Dean thinks, _this is it, this is how he dies._

"You're huge, Cas."

"Dean," Cas moans as Dean starts stroking him through the fabric.

"Want to suck your dick, Cas."

Castiel whimpers at Dean's gruff voice near his ear. "Eat you out," Dean adds, and Cas lets out a sound so obscene Dean nearly creams his pants.

"Dean," Cas takes off his pants in one fluid motion, and his cock springs out free. It is hard and leaking at the tip, and Dean's mouth waters. He wastes no time, crouches down in between Cas's legs and takes the erect shaft in his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Dean!" Cas shouts at the first contact with Dean's hot tongue. "So good." Dean starts to suck him, up and down motions, in and out of his mouth. Castiel buries his fingers in Dean's hair, and presses Dean's open throat to swallow against his tip.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean moans muffled against the shaft in his mouth, as he locks eyes with Cas.

"You look so beautiful like this."

When he finally decides to breathe, he takes Cas out of his mouth, and he is leaking so profusely Dean almost takes him in his mouth again.

Dean takes his shirt off, unbuckles his belt as he looks down at Castiel lying down against the white sheets, breathing heavily. His eyes are lust-blown, and his lips are swollen and red.

"I did that," Dean says, as he traces Castiel's lips with a finger. "Wow, I'm actually here with you, Cas," He leans down to frame Cas's face with his forearms.

"I love you, Dean."

Dean chuckles.

"What is it?"

"I'm just so fucking happy."

"Do you love me too?"

Dean can't help but laugh out loud at the question.

"What? Dean, tell me."

"That's about the biggest understatement this last decade, Cas."

Dean kisses his mouth again, and Cas kisses back.

"Yeah, you idiot, I love you too."

Cas giggles in between kisses. And Dean continues to plunder his mouth. Until it becomes too hot to handle again. Soon, Cas is taking off Dean's pants. Dean helps him, all the while licking at his chest. Dean takes one nipple in his mouth, and Cas archs his back up in surprise and pleasure. When Dean is divested of all his clothing, Castiel sits up, pushes Dean against the bed, and takes him in his mouth this time. Dean finds Castiel's hair, strokes the soft brown strands as Cas gives him the best blowjob he's ever had in his life.

"Cas, fuck, where'd you learn to do that?" Dean is very possibly losing his mind as Cas takes the whole length of him in the wet warmth of his mouth. Cas doesn't let him come, he flips Dean over, until Dean is nestled in between Castiel's legs. Cas rests his chin on his shoulder, as he wounds his arms around him and in front. Castiel starts to jack him off with one hand, his other hand playing with Dean's nipple. Dean looks down at his cock wrapped in Cas's big hand, being pumped up and down.

"You're so beautiful, Dean," Castiel whispers in his ear. "Are you happy?"

Dean nods against the side of Cas's face.

"I plan to keep you happy like this," Cas nibbles at his earlobe. "For as long as we both shall live."

"Oh, fuck babe." Dean closes his eyes, tries hard to keep from orgasming.

"On the bed, Dean." Cas maneuvers him, so that he's lying down on the bed. Cas hooks his hands under each knee, and raises his legs up. Without preamble, Cas starts licking Dean's hole. And Dean almost jumps off the bed. Cas kisses his hole like its his lips, and he looks like he's enjoying it too.

"Ohmyg—Caaaas, please..."

When Dean is loose enough, Castiel reaches into his bedside table and takes out a bottle of lube. He puts a generous amount in his fingers, and then inserts one, and then two fingers in Dean's puckered hole. He goes in to give Dean more open-mouthed kisses, as he scissors his fingers. He inserts a third finger in, and Dean writhes underneath him.

"You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas, just give me a sec."

When Dean has adjusted, he says, "Okay, go time."

Cas chuckles on top of him, gives his cock a tug or two.

"I'm clean," Cas says, suddenly serious. "Just so you know."

"Me too," Dean squeezes some lube in his hands and starts pumping Cas's cock again. "Come on, Cas, go time."

Castiel smiles down at him, tender and fond.

He lines himself up against Dean's waiting passage, and squeezes in inch by delicious inch, until he is fully inside.

"Oh, Cas."

"Are you okay?”

"Feels awesome."

"I'm gonna move."

"Please."

Castiel moves tentatively, moves his hips up, and then slowly down.

"Oh, fuuuck! That feels so fucking amazing, Cas."

That seems to be enough proof for Cas that Dean is not in pain, so he starts moving earnestly up and down. The obscene sounds coming from Cas is probably enough to fuel Dean's sexual fantasies for a lifetime.

Soon, Castiel's hips pistons up and down unforgivingly, and he ravages Dean like a mad animal. And Dean loves every second of it. His pre-come pools profusely on his belly, as Cas pumps out more out of him.

"Dean, I'm coming!" Castiel's hips moves in a stutter as he comes inside Dean. Dean feels the warmth of Castiel's seed, and welcomes it like a benediction washing all over him.

Castiel keeps pumping inside him in quick jabs as Dean follows not long after, shooting come into his abdomen and chin. Castiel leans down to lick off the come off his face and chest.

"I love you, Cas." Dean says, out of breath.

Castiel slips out of him, wet and sloppy, kisses Dean one more time, and falls limply on top of him.

"Love you too."

Getting cleaned is for the weak.

\---

Making breakfast should never be anything but calm and harmless. But here is Castiel, flipping bacon, and anxious to the freaking heavens of what to expect when Dean wakes up, comes to the kitchen, and sees Cas in the light of day after what transpired last night.

They've exchanged I love you's, yes. They had the most amazing, life-affirming sex. But life is never this happy for Castiel. Last night must be a fluke, that is the only explanation. Dean is going to come out of the bedroom, realizing all this was a giant mistake. And he's going to tell Castiel that he was drunk when he came storming into the house last night. And then, _Dean will leave_. Castiel shakes a little as he pours orange juice in tall glass.

 _For fuck's sake, calm down._ He takes a long drink.

"'Morning, Cas."

Castiel almost chokes on his Tropicana. Dean strides into the kitchen, naked except for a pair of black boxer shorts that cling to him like a second skin.

"Good morning," Cas coughs out.

"Smells good," Dean moves closer to where Cas is standing by the stove, wounds his arms around Castiel's middle, and inhales the sensitive spot where Cas's shoulder and neck meet. Castiel couldn't help the goosebumps all over his body.

"Uh, are y-you hungry?" Castiel says, almost shyly. Dean chuckles, a deep and rich sound.

"Are you this cute every morning-after?"

"Uh.." Cas can't possibly take the eggs and bacon from the pan, with Dean sucking on his neck.

"Why are you shy?" Dean whispers.

Castiel feels red in the face, embarrassed that Dean knows how he feels exactly.

"I'm not shy."

Dean giggles, and turns him to look at Dean.

"Let's get something straight, Cas."

Castiel nods.

"Are we together?"

"D-do you want to be together?" Castiel looks down, away from Dean's gaze.

"Well, what do you think Cas? I just confessed everything to you last night, told you I love you multiple times, destroyed and annihilated my pride at your feet. Here it lies in pieces. R.I.P."

Castiel laughs at Dean, it turns into a smile that reaches his eyes, that reaches his heart, and blooms into tiny explosions all over his body.

"Then, yes Dean," Castiel nods against the warmth of Dean's solid chest, "We're together."

Dean moves to turn off the heat from the pan, moves the pan to another coil on the stove.

"Babe, you didn't go to work?"

Castiel laughs again, still in Dean's embrace.

"No, I have very important stuff to do today," Cas looks up at Dean shyly.

"Cut the act, Novak. You were a sex maniac last night. Now you're being a shy, cute kitten."

Cas hides his face in Dean's neck, and Dean wounds his arms around him, sways them both a little, a grin plastered on his face.

"You haven't unpacked."

"Um-"

"Did you buy this place?"

"No, Dean," Cas replies, "I'm renting."

Dean doesn't say anything for a long time, deep in thought.

"You know, I live alone." Dean says, matter-of-factly.

Castiel looks up at him finally.

"Okay?"

"Do you want to move in with me?"

"Yes," comes Castiel's immediate reply. "Yes, I do, Dean."

Dean grins at him.

"I'll take care of you," Dean says gently, resting his forehead against Castiel's. "You'll never have to be lonely again. Or cold. Or left to your own devices. I will be your substantial past, present and future. I will be _it_ for you." Dean folds Castiel's hand over his chest. And Castiel feels tears threatening to fall any second now. _And he lets them,_ as he lets himself be surrounded by Dean's strength and warmth and love.

"I will try to keep you warm. All the days of your life...Mr. Novak."

 


End file.
